All Right
by phineyj
Summary: Cameron has something of House's follows on from the end of 'Fetal Position'


**Author's note:**

**Picks up from the end of 'Fetal Position', S3x07. Spoilers for Season 3.**

All right

Chase

"House's phone is off the hook," Cameron says, frowning at her cell as though it's personally responsible, "Or else he's having a really long conversation…" she shakes her head, "No, it's off the hook."

Her tone of worried concern makes Chase want to throw something at her. How come _he_ never merits that tone?

"Then he obviously doesn't want to speak to anyone, and I guess that includes you," he says, boredly, taking a bite of his burger. It would be nice to have a meal alone with Cameron – or any interaction, really – where there weren't three people present. He swallows, regards the burger contemplatively and reaches for the barbeque sauce.

"Why are you calling him, anyway?" he asks.

Cameron fishes in her shoulder bag and drops a small blue document on the table between them.

Chase picks it up and turns it over, "His passport?" He laughs, "Jeez, well that proves Emma's a good photographer. Nice to know House looks as hideous as the rest of us in an identity photo."

It's true; their boss looks like he wants to bite someone in the small color picture, although he did actually bother to shave. Clearly, Immigration scares him more than Cuddy. Either that, or House doesn't like drawing attention to himself when he's transporting truck-loads of Vicodin across international borders.

"So, what, you found this in his office?" Chase asks, thinking that if Cameron's not going to eat her fries, it would be a shame to waste them. He takes a few off her plate, and she doesn't even notice, because she's dialing House's number again.

"Yeah," she says, "He'll need it. He can't go on vacation without it, can he?"

"What makes you think he's going to bother to leave the country?" Chase says, "Anyway, he's probably got another one at home."

He's really had enough of this discussion now. He doesn't care if House spends the next week in the Cayman Islands or prone on his sofa watching porn and picking bits of fluff out of his navel. The point is, whatever he does, he won't be in the hospital bugging them, and Chase might be able to get Cameron's undivided attention for five minutes at a time.

"I'd better take it to his place," she says, decisively, and Chase puts his head in his hands and groans.

"Whatever," he says, "Pack his suitcase. Drive him to the airport if you must. For pity's sake, just get him to go somewhere and stop worrying."

Cameron

She knows she's not being fair to Chase. He signed up for uncomplicated sex; so did she. Turns out though, there's no such thing as uncomplicated when House's involved.

House takes a long time to answer his door, so long that she's turned her back and is about to walk away when a familiar voice says behind her, "Shouldn't you be getting it on in a utility closet somewhere?"

"I thought you might want this," she says, turning and brandishing the passport at him.

He takes it from her and gives it a cursory glance before shoving it into his back pocket.

"Not unless the Department of Homeland Security set up a border post between the kitchen and the couch in the last two minutes."

"So you're not going anywhere?" she asks, obscurely disappointed. She recognized the Galapagos and Cambodia for the diversions they were – House likes comfort and familiarity, she thinks – but Johnson's Strait sounded more likely. And besides, the clinic receptionist told her Cuddy gave him a ticket to Vancouver Island.

"I have porn, beer and Vicodin," House says, matter-of-factly. "My life is complete."

He turns around and limps away, leaving the door open.

She takes a cautious step over the threshold, ducking round the cane that for some reason is dangling from the doorframe and asks, "Um, House– what is this?"

"It's a piece of wood that keeps draughts out; some people call it a door. It works best closed," he offers, and sits down on the sofa in front of the TV.

"I mean, do you want me to come in?"

House gives her his patented 'duh, Cameron' look and says, "The Vicodin and porn are mine; paws off. But you can have a beer if you get me one."

She fetches two beers from the fridge, hands him one and sits gingerly beside him in the small amount of space that's left on the sofa. She's relieved to find that he's watching the Travel Channel. Unless he switched over while she was in the kitchen, of course.

They watch Komodo dragons in silence for a few minutes, until House asks, "What've you done with lover boy? Tied him to the bed and told him you'll be back later?"

Reluctantly, Cameron thinks about Chase. There's been something in his expression today; something she doesn't like. A look on his face like he cares. She doesn't want him to care; that's the whole point.

"Like it's any of your business," she says, tartly.

House looks at her with amusement, "That's right; you don't give a crap what I think."

House

His on-couch vacation is going great right up to the point where he opens the door to find Cameron about to walk away. He thinks of just letting her, but he can't resist making a crack. A closet? What was she thinking? Although, if she wanted his attention, she got it. It made him smile (still does), the thought that she'd go to those lengths to make him jealous.

It occurs to him that the last time they sat on this sofa together was when she was bandaging up his wrists for him. He knows why Cuddy sent her; he wouldn't have let anyone else do it. He has no idea what's going on with Cameron now. All he knows is he misses the way they used to be able to sit together in companionable silence.

It's his own fault. He let her think he was going to die. He thinks she's like that patient, the one with the tick in the place the sun don't shine. Cameron's seen too much death; now it sends her into systemic shock. There's no other plausible explanation for why she would kiss him with tongue.

He makes a decision; he lifts his leg down from where it's resting on the pillow between them and moves over towards her.

"House?" she says, puzzled.

"I'm on vacation," he says, "Everyone does weird stuff on vacation," and he puts his arms around her. She's so thin; he feels like too much pressure could snap her, but he knows it's an illusion. She's much stronger than he is.

"We will never speak of this," he mumbles into the top of her head, and she just laughs.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

"Yeah."

And it's true, he is.


End file.
